


Ryssa Origin Story

by Gardngoyle



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 08:18:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17804429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gardngoyle/pseuds/Gardngoyle
Summary: At lot is happening at Skyhold and Ryssa's situation changes drastically.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the promised Ryssa Origin Story. I love this character. The romantic relationships among our canon characters are there but they are somewhat secondary to the actual plot. This is just after the Revelations Quest but before the Satinalia Ball.   
> I will also say there is a little bit of violence, but it isn't terribly graphic - more emotionally upsetting.

Ryssa Martyl ran as fast as she could across the lower courtyard. She was an official Inquisition Messenger, one of the Children of Skyhold called into service by Enchanter Pavus to carry messages around the castle. People knew her and moved out of her way even before they could see the wooden medallion she wore about her neck. She hoped the Inquisitor was in her room, Ryssa had to find her - quick.

The Messenger service had begun soon after their arrival in Skyhold. Enchanter Pavus had given a boy named Marin two bronze coins to carry a note to Deshyr Tethras asking to meet him at the tavern for a game of Wicked Grace. A few days later, he paid Ryssa to carry a note from the library to Lady Josephine’s office. Next thing he knew, the castle children were following him around the grounds, hoping for a few coins in exchange for running notes or retrieving items. Everyone in the castle was surprised when the Tevinter mage took the little flock of refugees under his wing. Each morning, after breakfast, Dorian put them through training in the Main Hall, the same way Blackwall trained recruits in the courtyard. The Messengers ran timed routes all over the castle, learned basic court manners, how to be unobtrusive but close at hand, and how to address the important people around the Inquisitor’s ‘court’. One evening, Ryssa had overheard Lady Lavellan ask Dorian about it. ‘It costs nothing to make a child feel valued, Dove,’ he had said, and left it at that.

When their training was done there was a little ceremony. Lady Lavellan sat on her beautiful white throne, and Enchanter Pavus presented each Messenger to her by name. She welcomed each of them into her service and placed a wooden medallion with the symbol of the Inquisition, meticulously carved and painted by Blackwall, around their necks. Everyone in the castle made sure they carried coins with them to pay Messengers to run notes and invitations all over Skyhold. Payment was based on what the message was, whether it was verbal or written, and the person paying for it. Seeker Pentaghast paid well enough considering she didn’t really ‘get’ the whole thing - she often forgot about Messengers completely and just walked around until she found who she was looking for. Lady Lavellan paid double and gave out hugs as well. Lady Montilyet often provided candies as well as coins. Sera would give bronzes to play ball in the Main Hall when Deshyr Tethras was hung over. And the Deshyr was happy to hand over whatever he had left in his pockets just to take your ball back outside. 

Ryssa took her job as Messenger very seriously. She was always eager to impress the Enchanter. He was the most handsome man in Skyhold. And witty. And he always smelled nice. Ryssa felt a little fluttery when he was around but was keen enough to realize that even when she grew up there was no way for her to catch Dorian’s eye. She was only ten and he was old enough to be her Papa and only liked boys anyway, specifically the Iron Bull. Ryssa found that funny. Bull wasn’t as scary as he looked and he often joined the children who played in the yard near the stables, but he didn’t look...kissable.

Ryssa tore through the drafty hall. ‘Brandon!’ she called to the guard, even before reaching the door to the Inquisitor’s quarters, ‘Where is-‘

‘Upstairs,’ Brandon was already pushing the door open for her. 

She climbed the stairs as fast as she could and banged on the inner door to the Inquisitor’s room, ‘Lady Lavellan, you need to come quick!’

‘Ryssa? Come up.’ The Lady’s voice drifted down the stairs.

Vhenaria was relieved to close the little book of words Dorian had given her. He was still trying to teach her to read and she still wasn’t catching on. Even the simplest words were beyond her and she was ready to toss the book into the fire where it would do some actual good. Ryssa was out of breath and looked upset. The girl reminded Vhenaria of a little bird with her dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and slight frame. Not just a Messenger, but also one of Dorian’s favorites. Five extraordinary children that Varric called the ‘Right Hand of the Sparkler,’ though everyone was careful not to say that in front of Leliana or Cassandra. Three boys - Kelton, age eleven; eight-year-old twins Terryn, and Tad; and two girls - Lena and Ryssa, who were both ten. They were all clever, quiet, and knew how to read. But Ryssa was Dorian’s special favorite. He doted on her and called her Little Sparrow and let her help him with the books in the library.

‘Is everything all right?’ Vhenaria asked cautiously.  

Ryssa stood straight and saluted, ‘Lady Lavellan, there is a matter you should be aware of at the stables.’

‘Report,’ the Inquisitor replied as though Ryssa was any other scout or requisition officer, though she smiled when she said it.

Ryssa tried to maintain the decorum Enchanter Pavus had drilled into her head, but this was too important, and she quickly gave up, ‘Lady, there is a woman in the stable, yelling at Ward-...at Blackwall.’ Ryssa was still piecing the details of that mess together. Warden Blackwall wasn’t really a Warden. And he wasn’t really Blackwall except that everyone still called him that. The Messengers had been told to drop his title, he was simply ‘Blackwall’ now. Apparently, Blackwall was really a murderer named Thom Rainier. Ryssa had overheard plenty of gossip saying that Thom Rainier had killed a woman, that he had killed babies, that he had burned a house down with people in it, that he had stabbed an unarmed man in the back. None of that could be right. There had to be a mistaken identity. Blackwall would never hurt an innocent person, much less a child. For most of the Skyhold children Blackwall was the closest thing to a father they had left. Out near the stables was the best place to play. Blackwall was always nearby to enforce the rules of the games, make sure everyone played fair, protect against the bigger kids, and tend to skinned knees. Clearly someone was confused. Ryssa had been in the hall the day they brought Blackwall to be judged by the Inquisitor. Lady Lavellan was so sad that day. The look on her face was enough to break anyone’s heart. Ryssa had hoped to hear the charges against Blackwall so she could sort it all out, but Lady Josephine looked just as hurt as the Inquisitor and her voice had nearly cracked when she said, ‘Well, you are aware of his crimes.’ That was two weeks ago now, and everything seemed to have worked out, at least until today, when this strange woman had walked into the stable and started calling Blackwall names. ‘Please, you need to come down,’ Ryssa said.

The Inquisitor dropped her book on the chair and ran down the stairs. Ryssa’s eyes were quick and she saw that it was a primer, and only a second level primer at that. Lady Lavellan was still trying to learn to read. As she followed the Inquisitor, Ryssa wondered if Lady Nightingale might pay for that information, unless she already knew. A few weeks after the Messengers received their badges, the Spymaster began paying extra for ‘additional information.’ And she paid well. Ryssa had once gotten a whole silver for telling on one of the gate guards. An Antivan delegate had come to Skyhold and brought a gift of _gramitti_ to the Inquisitor. The guard, Donnel, was trying to impress one of the serving girls. He had broken into the locked larder and taken some. Not all of it. Just a few pieces to share with Gwen in a corner of the garden. Ryssa hadn’t felt right telling on Donnel. It made her stomach hurt. But she and Maman needed every little bit. A couple days later Ryssa noticed that Donnel was no longer at his post. He had been transferred to an Inquisition camp in the Fallow Mire. Ryssa hadn’t given Lady Nightingale any information since then.

She understood about the _gramitti_. The little candied citrus peels were amazing. Enchanter Pavus had shared some with his ‘Right Hand’ one day at one of the table lessons they had in the castle kitchens. He was determined to teach his favorites perfect table manners, all about new and exotic food, the most popular dances, and how to get your way just by being polite. Ryssa liked _gramitti_ even better than the little cakes from Orlais called _bellbilot_. Still, it was hard to believe Donnel had disappeared over a few pieces of Antivan candy.      

Ryssa wasn’t the only Messenger that didn’t like to spy for Lady Nightingale, most of them didn’t. Leliana was the scariest person in Skyhold, next to Solas. No one ran messages to the creepy elf with the weird paintings on his walls. He didn’t seem to like children, and none of the children trusted him. Lady Nightingale was scarier even than Madame de Fer. Kelton called her ‘Lady Iron Pants’ and there was no doubt that she could be mean sometimes, but at least she was mean right to your face. Lady Nightingale was just sneaky. The Messengers still brought her information, but they were careful not to get anyone in too much trouble and they kept the most important things to themselves.

By the time Ryssa and Lady Lavellan reached the stable a small crowd had gathered. When they noticed the Inquisitor, the people whispered and stepped aside. Most of them left the courtyard completely. Ryssa stepped into the cover of some little trees by the castle wall. The woman was still ranting at Blackwall, who stood quietly and listened, never interrupting. She wasn’t shouting hysterically any longer. Her tone was pained, but calm. She was an older woman, with a few white streaks in her dark hair, almost forty if Ryssa had to guess. She had the look of a mage about her, though she didn’t carry a staff. It was something about the way her hands moved.

Lady Lavellan got as far as the door and stopped. The woman was talking.

‘When he didn’t return after a year I thought he was dead. Another year went by and I heard rumors that Gordon Blackwall was still out there. I thought….’ she closed her eyes and took a shaky breath, ‘I thought he’d moved on. Found someone new. It broke my heart.’ She opened her eyes and took a step towards Blackwall, ‘You broke my heart!’

‘I have no defense, Lady. It was a cowardly thing to do,’ Blackwall’s hands were clasped behind his back and he stared at the ground between them. 

‘How did he die?’ she asked in a cold steel voice. Ryssa realized that the woman wasn’t getting the satisfaction she had hoped for. Blackwall wasn’t going to argue with her. And he wasn’t going to beg her forgiveness. He simply accepted her anger. But instead of making him seem weak, it made him immovable. Ryssa was getting much better at reading people. Enchanter Pavus encouraged his Right Hand to learn everything they could and read every book in the library, but always told them that the most important thing of all was to learn to read people.

‘He died saving my life,’ replied Blackwall, ‘you cannot know how sorry I am that he took a killing blow meant for me. Darkspawn. I never saw it coming,’ He still couldn’t meet the woman’s eyes, ‘he was a hero.’

‘Saving you!?’ the woman crossed the space between them and struck Blackwall across the face. The sound cracked across the yard. Ryssa saw the Inquisitor’s body tense as if she had taken the blow herself. She stepped into the barn and addressed the woman directly, ‘Do you have what you came here for?’ Lady Lavellan’s voice was calm and even, it was her Inquisitor voice. ‘Or is there something more we can help you with?’

‘Inquisitor?’ the woman asked.

Ryssa saw Lady Lavellan’s left hand, the hand with The Mark, clench. Ryssa wondered if Vhenaria realized that she did that every time someone called her ‘Inquisitor’ or ‘Your Worship’. She didn’t like being Inquisitor. She wanted to go back to living in the woods like a regular Dalish elf. Preferably with Blackwall. 

‘Is there anything we can do for you before you return home, Lady...’

‘Annette Rinder, Your Worship,’ the woman said. And the Inquisitor’s fist clenched again. Annette looked at Blackwall, ‘Where is Gordon Blackwall buried?’

Blackwall answered quietly, ‘The Warden’s bones are safeguarded here at Skyhold. Part of my debt is to return the remains to Wiesshaupt.’

‘Unfortunately,’ the Inquisitor interrupted, ‘Corypheus is our main concern at this moment. Once he is defeated, we will properly honor the Warden.’ 

‘I will take them,’ Annette replied.

‘Please know that I am grieved by your loss. But I would advise against that,’ the Inquisitor countered, ‘there is disorder among the Wardens. The events at Adamant have left many questions. It is a dangerous time-’

‘I will take them,’ Annette repeated stubbornly.

‘As you wish. If you would like to make yourself comfortable in the Main Hall I will inform Commander Rutherford that he is to provide anything you might need for your journey.’

‘Thank you, Your Worship,’ Annette shot an ugly look at Blackwall and walked out across the courtyard.   

Ryssa waited in the cover of the trees. She saw Lady Lavellan go over to Blackwall. He wouldn’t look at her, but she whispered to him and kissed the bruised cheekbone where Annette had hit him. Ryssa realized she was spying on a private moment and began to move away when the Inquisitor turned for the door. Ryssa stayed where she was. She hadn’t heard anything but felt uncomfortable about watching and she didn’t want to get caught. Lady Lavellan walked past her and Ryssa checked the door to make sure Blackwall wouldn’t see her. He was leaning on the door frame watching his Lady cross the yard and only Ryssa saw the look of complete and unconditional love on his face. It made her young heart nearly burst and brought tears to her eyes. Ryssa knew then that she would never settle for anything less than that kind of love. She’d rather be alone.

 


	2. Chapter 2

‘And where’d you get these?’ Ryssa’s mother looked down at the coins in her hand with a black look, ‘I’ve told you before I don’t want you up at the keep anymore. Bad enough you been working for that Dirty Vint Mage all this time, now we find out that the knife-ear has pardoned that murderous bastard, Rainier. Herald of Andraste? Maker help me! Only Andraste herself knows what you do for those people. You’re a good girl, Ryssa. We don’t need help from people like that.’ Maman looked at the coins with contempt but pocketed them anyway. She had to, they were barely getting by as it was. Ryssa and Livia lived in a one room house in the settlement that had sprung up in the outer bailey of Skyhold. The Inquisition didn’t just need soldiers, it needed butchers, laundresses, bakers, scullery maids and blacksmiths. The refugees filled those roles and lived within the safety of the curtain wall. Maman was a marvelous baker and could have worked in the castle kitchens, but she refused to set foot even in the inner bailey, never mind the keep itself. Instead Livia took in laundry, mending, and occasionally fine embroidery. But only during those exciting times when ambassadors or nobles came to Skyhold and the other women from Haven were overwhelmed with work.

Ryssa ignored Maman’s harshness. In truth the destruction of Haven had robbed the girl of both her parents. Her father had died in the battle. Ryssa and Livia had followed the rest of the refugees to Skyhold because they had nowhere else to go and Maman hadn’t been the same since. She railed against anything and everything. The weather, the food, hard times. But she saved her most ardent complaints for Lady Lavellan and those now known as the Inner Circle. Livia held them personally responsible for everything that had happened to them, to Haven, to Ferelden. She was naturally suspicious of elves and terrified of mages.

‘I’ve told you Maman, all I do is run messages back and forth across the castle.’

‘And I’ve told you, you are no one’s servant.’

‘I don’t fetch water, or serve at table, Maman. I run messages. Important papers from Commander Rutherford, to Lady Montilyet or Madame de Fer.’ Ryssa had carefully avoided mentioning Lady Lavellan or Enchanter Pavus and these past few weeks she had stopped referring to Blackwall in any way. The confusion over his name and his identity still bothered her. No one had taken the time to explain it, but in all fairness Ryssa hadn’t asked. She didn’t really want to know. It didn’t matter at all to the Children of Skyhold what his name was, Blackwall was obviously loyal and brave and kind. He was good. Lady Lavellan was good. And so was the Inquisition. ‘I’m not doing anything wrong Maman. I promise.’ Ryssa continued, her fingers absentmindedly straying to the wooden Messenger badge she wore beneath her tunic. She always kept it hidden once she passed through the gate down into the outer bailey. It was the only thing of hers from the castle she brought home. She loved being a Messenger. Ryssa was allowed to come and go without the guards asking too many questions. The badge gave her access to the Undercroft, the War Room, even Lady Lavellan’s Quarters. It made her part of the Inquisition. It made her feel important. Like she was helping. And the coins she earned helped her and her mother eat.

‘What do you have there?’ Maman’s fingers wrapped around the cord and she pulled the wooden disc out into the light from the fire. The symbol of the Inquisition carefully rendered white on a black background. ‘Maker help me, that’s enough! I won’t have it! I’ll starve before I let them take you from me too.’ Maman pulled the medallion off over Ryssa’s head. The cord caught on one ear but Maman yanked anyway. In an instant Ryssa saw all her hard work going to waste. Not just being a Messenger, but all of it. Lady Josephine was teaching her table manners and how to dance. Lady Lavellan was teaching her Dalish words and all about the plants she grew in her tower room. Enchanter Pavus was teaching her Tevene. She would do well and buy Maman a house and they would be safe. She just had to get her mother to listen, to stop being so afraid. But Maman was furious. ‘Your father is dead and gone because of them! I won’t HAVE IT!’ Maman shrieked and threw the medallion into the fireplace.

‘No!!” Ryssa screamed. The insignia was flat and not very heavy. To Ryssa it seemed to float toward the flames. She reached out her hand to catch it, but she was too far away. _Put out the fire!_ Ryssa thought uselessly, and without warning a gout of frost sprang from her fingertips. Ice coated the inside of the fireplace, the pot of stew, the andirons, even the logs themselves. The Messenger badge fell safely to the floor and Ryssa snatched it up before she even realized what she had done.

Ryssa clutched the Insignia to her chest and stared at the icy hearth. Her heart was beating wildly. _Did I do that? How? No. No! I can’t be. I can’t be a mage! I can’t!_ Cold fear gripped her belly. _What do I do now?_ She turned toward her mother for help.

The first blow fell squarely against the left side of Ryssa’s face. Maman was screaming as though a Fade Rift had opened in the roof. She flailed wildly at her daughter. ‘A mage!’ Livia cried in terror, ‘you’ll bring demons upon us. Burn down the house!’ Ryssa sank to her knees and covered her face. As confused and scared as she was she struggled to stay calm. She was so afraid of hurting someone with her new found and unwanted power that she crouched on the floor and waited for her mother’s hysteria to run itself dry. Blows fell across her back and arms again and again.  

Livia was taking all the anxiety and anger she had felt since Haven out on Ryssa. She was no longer screaming, but neither was she tiring. Ryssa realized that she had to get out of the house. She had to get back into the keep where she was safe. The neighbors were going to hear, and then - anything might happen. They might just take her to the mage’s tower in the keep, or they might leave her outside the curtain wall to freeze. Either way she would no longer be welcome in the outer bailey.

Ryssa hated to do it, but there was only one way to make Maman stop. Clutching her medallion in her left hand she rose and held out her right hand in the same way she had pointed it at the fire. She tried to keep her mind as quiet as she could. Ryssa didn’t know how she had caused the frost and was terrified of doing it again. ‘Back away, Maman,’ Ryssa said quietly, tears streaking her cheeks. Livia looked horrified. Devastated. ‘I’m going. I won’t bring demons here. I won’t hurt you. But I won’t let you hurt me either.’ Livia stood across the room from her daughter, back against the wall. Speechless. Ryssa backed out the door and into the chill of the night. She pulled the door shut, not realizing she left the latch frozen shut and a glaze of frost on the handle.

Ryssa put her Messenger badge back on and held it close against her chest. She was scared. She had no idea if anyone had heard the argument, or if Maman would follow her outside. The houses in the outer bailey were close together, and secrets were difficult to keep. She had to get to the keep. Pulling the hood of her cloak up to hide her bruised face, she made her way through the settlement.  It was late afternoon and folks were preparing the evening meal. A few children ran about, but the little community was mostly quiet. A few people greeted her as she went past. Somehow she was surprised that they couldn’t see it. She was a mage.

When she reached the gate, heart pounding in her chest, Ryssa recognized one of the guards. He was skinny, red-headed, and not too bright, ‘Dustran,’ she said holding out her Messenger badge and hiding her rapidly swelling eye in the fold of the hood, ‘I’m in a hurry. I have news for Commander Rutherford.’

‘Bit young for the Commander don’t you think?’ he chuckled.

_No, ten is a lot young, you moron,_ thought Ryssa, ‘It’s Inquisition business, Dustran, let me by or I’ll report you to Enchanter Pavus,‘ her voice was brittle, ‘Maybe he’ll turn you into a toad.’

‘Maker’s Breath, I was only joking,’ Dustran said, opening the door in the gate and letting her through, ‘Aren’t you a frigid little thing. What’s the matter with you, then?’ Ryssa ignored the comment. She was in no mood to be teased and she didn’t want to prolong the conversation. With her hood pulled up Ryssa didn’t see Dustran shiver as she passed.

The door shut behind her and she fought the urge to just sit down right there in the courtyard and cry. She was so scared. She didn’t want to be a mage. Who would? Mages were unpredictable, dangerous, and attracted demons. What if she became possessed? An abomination? Maybe she would have to be made Tranquil? Tranquils were frightening. They didn’t even seem like people anymore. She needed to talk to Enchanter Pavus. Dorian.

Her romantic crush on Dorian had died a few weeks ago. She had seen the look of love on Blackwall’s face when Lady Lavellan didn’t know he was looking at her. Ryssa knew Enchanter Pavus would never look at her that way and that was fine with her. But she did still adore and trust him. Her affection had cooled to think of him more like a favorite uncle. He was also a mage. He could help her. But Dorian was away from Skyhold with Lady Lavellan, Blackwall and The Iron Bull.

She needed to sleep and to think. There was no way to know when the party would return to Skyhold. They were already three days overdue. Lady Lavellan always tried to help everyone she met, so her missions tended to last as long as the Inquisitor saw fit. Ryssa was on her own for now.  

No one at Skyhold knew where Ryssa’s hiding place was. And there was no point in going hungry until the Inquisitor returned. First, she would beg scraps at the castle kitchens. Then she would disappear, making her way through the hidden by-ways of the castle, carefully avoiding other Messengers. There was no way to know which of them secretly worked for Lady Nightingale.  

 


	3. Chapter 3

Finally home from a long campaign in the Emerald Graves, Dorian was ready for a hot bath and a cool bottle of wine. He hoped to find his room appointed with a tub full of water ready to be magically heated, and a cheery fire to keep the chill of Ferelden away. As he strode up the hall toward his chamber he noticed that it was not Ryssa who greeted him, but another Messenger instead. A boy named Marin.   

‘Enchanter, glad you are back, do you have any messages to run?’

‘Not now, Marin,’ Dorian’s brow furrowed, ‘where is Ryssa today? Does Lady Montilyet have her busy running the menus for the Satinalia Ball?’ Ryssa was Dorian’s true favorite among the fifteen Messengers and he had become used to her on post by his door. She always seemed glad to see him, and she often had the best gossip from around the castle.

‘She’s run off, Enchanter.’ 

Dorian paused, the door to his quarters half open. ‘Run away?’

‘Yes, Enchanter,’ Marin was excited and forgot who he was talking to, ‘none’s seen her since two nights past. She had a row with her mum, alright? But no one knows what about. Then Dustran seen her at the gate, the kitchen maids seen her, and none since.’

Dorian frowned at Marin. The boy would never be one of The Hand. ‘Young man, do not slip into a low country accent when you are about your work, you are better than that. And if Ryssa argued with her mother then was seen at the gate and in the kitchens, don’t you think she is somewhere inside Skyhold?’

‘Sorry, Enchanter,’ the boy straightened up, and chose his words more carefully, ‘Yes, Ser. We considered that Ryssa must still be at Skyhold. Everyone in the castle has searched for her. She must have left by some other way. Enchanter. Ser.’

_Not likely._ Thought Dorian. ‘On second thought, Marin, I do have a few messages I would like you to run for me.’ Dorian sat down at his desk and quickly scratched out two notes, magically sealed them, and wrote the recipients names on the outside. ‘Listen to me, young man. You run this one to Lady Lavellan first, quick as you can. And then take this one down to the stables to Blackwall.’ He could only guess why Ryssa was hiding but he had a fair idea where and he needed Marin out of the way. Dorian knew that whatever was bothering her would require parental guidance.

Vhenaria and Blackwall were the two most parental people he knew. Oh, they had their moments. Some nights they stayed up until dawn drinking and losing small fortunes at Wicked Grace. After leaving Alistair Theirin in the Fade they had gone on a guilt-ridden three-day bender the likes of which even Hawke and Varric had never seen. But Dorian’s personal favorite was the dirty joke competition. Sera had been the judge and everyone expected it to come down to consummate storyteller, Varric, and the ever bawdy Blackwall. But then Vhenaria started singing a little ditty about a young mage curious about templars, what they might or might not wear beneath their skirts, and how she found out. Blackwall actually blushed and Sera laughed so hard she fell off the table and nearly broke her head open.

Raucous good times and horrifying past lives aside, Dove and Blackwall were always helping people, giving people second chances, and doing the right thing. They were irritatingly - _good_. Made him wonder why they spent any time with him at all, but that was a question for another day.  

Marin ran off, lightning quick. _Not the brightest boy, but fast on his feet._ Dorian thought, pouring himself a goblet of wine from the bottle on his bedside table. He gazed longingly at the bathtub while he sipped. What he really needed was a long hot shower, but Skyhold didn’t exactly lend itself to the addition of accommodations as basic as running water. The tubs were still filled by hand, though Dorian had insisted that mages be enlisted to heat the water after tubs were filled instead of risking injury to the castle staff. Apparently, Southerners were afraid of bathing in magically heated water. They seemed to think they would ‘catch’ magic from it. _If only it worked that way,_ the Enchanter thought sardonically.   

Dorian picked up his washcloth, dipped it in the water and wiped his face and arms with it. He was stalling. Dorian was simply afraid of letting Ryssa down by saying the wrong thing. He wondered how Vhenaria seemed to always know what to say to people to put them at ease. But there was nothing for it. He had to handle this himself, or risk giving up the best hiding place in all of Skyhold.

                                                                                                                         ****

The library wasn’t terribly large as far libraries went. Dorian was sure the room that held the unfortunately sparse collection was not the original library used by the elves when Skyhold was built. The few remaining tomes from that era were rotting away - moldy and largely illegible. Dorian had spent hours, and much of the gold he had won on campaign, organizing and adding to the collection. A threadbare tapestry of a pleasant woodland scene dominated the back wall of the space. Dorian moved aside the corner of the tapestry and quietly opened the door of a storage room. Ryssa herself had found it one day while she and Dorian were organizing shelves. The space was not much more than a good-sized closet with some dilapidated bookcases holding long forgotten scrolls. They had emptied the closet and Ryssa swept and dusted. Dorian had designated it as the best place to store books, scrolls and folios deemed too delicate to be in main collection. It was a small room, but it did have a window. Ryssa was there as he expected but Dorian was still surprised. She had made herself a little nest under the casement. There was a bedroll, undoubtedly pilfered from the army stores, and a small crate with a hasp that she leaned on for a desk. On a shelf nearby were papers, books, a toy cat undoubtedly carved by Blackwall, an inkwell, and a pen that he had misplaced months ago.  

Ryssa had to have heard Dorian come in but she didn’t acknowledge him. She sat on the bedroll leaning against a bookcase, knees drawn up, with papers propped against her legs. Dorian recognized them as lists he had made for her. Tevene wordlists.    

‘Avanna Paserilla,’ he said quietly, ‘I hear you’ve run away from home.’

_Hello, Little Sparrow_. Ryssa breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t mad at her. ‘Will you make me go back, Enchanter?’

‘No, my dear,’ Dorian sat on the floor facing her, ‘I doubt I could make you do anything. If I tried, I imagine you’d leave Skyhold altogether. Then you’d be alone in this great freezing place we call Fereldan. I could hardly allow that. The trouble is that your mother will miss you and want you home.’

‘She won’t.’ Ryssa’s voice was hard. Not angry so much as resigned.  

‘What could you have possibly done to think your mother doesn’t want you?’ Dorian winced. That hadn’t come out quite the way he meant it.

‘I’m a--’ The last word came out as barely a whisper, ‘mage.’

‘That’s marvelous, my dear!’ Dorian said. He was thrilled and couldn’t wait to start teaching her how to use her gift. She was so bright and so talented. Magic was a joyous thing, something to revel in. Then reality began to dawn on him. This was not Tevinter. Here in Ferelden, magic was akin to disease. Dorian discarded that thought. He refused to let her think there was something wrong with her.

‘No,’ Ryssa said, turning toward him, ‘It isn’t.’

Dorian’s brow furrowed, he could see blotches of yellowy green and purple from a bruise, perhaps a few days old. The discoloration took up a good portion of the left side of Ryssa’s face. Bright red anger welled up in Dorian’s chest. ‘Your mother did that?’ He was sickened by the thought. He knew that many parents beat their children when they felt they deserved it. It was no different in Tevinter. That didn’t make him any more comfortable with the sight of a ten-year-old with a marred face. There was no love lost between himself and his own mother, but she had never, even in her most drunken state, struck him.

Ryssa nodded silently and pulled up the sleeve of her tunic. She had more bruises on her arm. He found himself unable to ask how bad it really was, though he suspected her back looked much like her face and arms.

‘Because you are a mage?’ He knew the answer to the question, he was only saying it out loud to try to make sense of it. It wasn’t working. Ryssa began to cry then. Dorian was at a loss. This was a time for celebration, not punishment. These Southerners. Uncivilized brutes the lot of them. Dorian pulled Ryssa into his arms and hugged her as tightly as he dared, afraid of hurting her more. But he only let her cry a for a little while. She was strong. He wouldn’t let her forget that.

‘All right then, Sparrow,’ he said more brightly than he felt, ‘off we go.’

‘Where?!’ Ryssa’s face was frightened.

‘First stop, Lady Lavellan’s quarters. You need a bath and something clean to wear. When was the last time you ate?’

‘I had a meat pie this afternoon. It was cold though. I begged it from the kitchens the other night, but I had a few things stashed away here. A half a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese and the like. I can keep food away from the mice if I hide it in here,’ she said, tapping the crate desk.  

‘I had no idea you spent so much time in here.’ Dorian said, looking around.

‘I can’t take my Tevene home to study. And I didn’t want you to ask me why it was still here.’

‘You were hiding from me?’ Dorian was confused and more hurt than he wanted to admit. Did she not trust him?

‘Only so you wouldn’t be angry with Maman.’

‘Yes, well, Paserilla, we are well past that now.’

 


	4. Chapter 4

As the Dorian and Ryssa climbed the stairs into Vhenaria’s room, they heard Blackwall’s voice, obviously concerned, ‘-sent me a Messenger and told me to come here and ask about Ryssa on the way. Everyone I spoke to gave me a different answer. She ran away or was taken. She was beaten. She fought for her life. She’s gone over to help Corypheus. Doesn’t make sense. What I do know is that Ryssa is missing and maybe in trouble and now Dorian isn’t here either.’

‘We are here, Big Man, take a breath. You’ll need calm when you hear what has happened.’ Dorian interjected as he and Ryssa reached the top of the stairs.

Blackwall turned toward them, relief flooding his features, ‘You found her, thank The Maker-’ he paused, his face darkened, and he dropped to one knee in front of Ryssa, ‘Who in blazes did that to you?’ Ryssa saw Blackwall’s hand, his sword hand, clench.

Ryssa looked up at Dorian, ‘It’s all right, Sparrow. You can speak for yourself.’

Despite her fear, she looked Blackwall in the eye, and said, ‘My mother did that, Ser. But she-’ _What? Thought it was the right thing to do? Because I’m a mage._ Dorian wouldn’t like that answer. She didn’t have to finish the thought because Lady Lavellan stepped in, guiding her over towards the fire. The Inquisitor sat with her on one of the couches. Her cool fingers gently examined the bruise on Ryssa’s face. In an undertone Blackwall said something that sounded angry and Dorian agreed. But Lady Lavellan was perfectly calm. ‘ _Da’len_ , why don’t you tell us exactly what happened.’

So Ryssa quietly explained everything. The argument, Maman throwing her badge away, the ice, and the aftermath. ‘She was just scared. There’s never been magic in my family, ever. She thought I was going to summon a demon by mistake or burn down the house.’

‘Yes, well, that does often happen when ice gets out of control,’ Dorian noted dryly.

Vhenaria shot him a look, then asked. ‘How did you get away?’

‘I held my hands up at her to make her think I might….do magic...at her,’ Ryssa looked away, embarrassed, ashamed, and blinking back tears, ‘I didn’t know how I’d done it the first time. I don’t even want to try it again. I was afraid I might actually hurt her. She backed away and I ran.’

‘All right, Gentlemen,’ Lady Lavellan said, ‘Thoughts?’

‘Well, we can’t send her home,’ Dorian’s tone was final.

‘Really?’ Blackwall asked, ‘and how exactly do you plan on handling that? Are you going to keep her from her mother by force? She’s only a child.’

‘ _Ma’arlath_ ,’ Lady Lavellan said, ‘you know what will happen if we send her home.’

‘Enlighten me,’ Dorian said.

‘No reason to frighten the girl,’ Blackwall said, ‘let’s just say it won’t be pleasant.’

‘You people are truly barbaric,’ Dorian announced to no one in particular.

‘I’d watch the righteous indignation if I were you, Dorian,’ Blackwall rumbled.

‘You think it’s perfectly fine to treat mages like inferiors? Or worse?’

‘And they don’t treat non-magical people like inferiors in Tevinter?’ Blackwall’s tone was goading and Ryssa couldn’t tell if he was joking or truly angry, ‘what is the word you use…’

‘Soporati,’ Dorian supplied the Tevene term for a non-magic user. ‘Technically it means someone who sleeps.’

‘And this is a compliment I take it?’ Blackwall asked.

Dorian looked uncomfortable, ‘Not exactly.’ Ryssa did not want to the two of them to fight. Their good-natured teasing was legendary, but everyone knew they held each other in high regard. Blackwall had even asked Ryssa to help with Dorian’s extra special Satinalia gift.

Blackwall pressed his point, ‘Have you ever talked about Kirkwall with Varric? In the years before the Chantry was destroyed - by a mage no less - there were demons everywhere. Mages conducting experiments on regular folk. Complete chaos.’

‘Mages aren’t ‘regular folk’?’ Dorian was indignant.

‘Are you saying _you_ are regular folk?’ Blackwall countered, smiling agreeably.

‘Well, _I’m_ not,’ Dorian grinned as he poured himself a glass from the wine bottle on the table and took a large sip, ‘But that is hardly the point.’

Ryssa giggled despite her discomfort. She didn’t want to cause problems. She just wanted to be...regular.

‘And we haven’t even begun to discuss the slave trade…’ Blackwall began.

Lady Lavellan cut in, ‘All right, we aren’t going to solve the failings of the Imperium or the Mage Question tonight. Right now, we need to figure out what to do with this mage right here.’ The Inquisitor gently touched Ryssa’s hair.

‘She should be trained by the lady enchanter in charge of the mages. What’s her name? Fiona.’

‘I’m going to talk to your mother,’ Dorian announced, ignoring Blackwall’s plan completely.

‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ Blackwall replied warily.

'Well, we need to find out what the woman is thinking. Was she truly just frightened and caught off guard or is the situation more...dire.’

‘Enchanter,’ Ryssa was nearly whispering, ‘Blackwall is right. Don’t go by yourself.’

‘They may not respect mages, but they do respect the Inquisition.’

‘You are...from Tevinter.’ Ryssa noted.

Dorian started to answer sarcastically, but he could see she was very serious and very scared. He turned to Blackwall, ‘Do you want to take a walk, Big Man?’

‘No!’ Ryssa blurted. She turned a little red, ‘Maybe Commander Rutherford instead?’ The two men looked at her, puzzled and concerned. Ryssa looked at Blackwall, ‘My mother is from Orlais. You might be the only person she likes less than Enchanter Pavus.’

‘Perfect,’ he flashed a dark look at Vhenaria, ‘I told you that pardoning me would be more trouble than it was worth to you.’

‘And I told you that isn’t true,’ she replied serenely.

‘For most people it isn’t,’ Ryssa was vehement, ‘we know you are good. Maman just - hasn’t been the same since Haven.’

‘None of us have,’ said Lady Lavellan, squeezing Ryssa’s hand. ‘All right then, Dorian, get cleaned up and head down to the outer bailey. Take Cullen with you. Let him know it’s a priority. And please, _Mir’dath_ , be your most charming.’

‘When am I not charming?’ Dorian set his glass on the table and sat down on Ryssa’s other side. He took her hand in his and looked at her intently, ‘Ryssa. How do you want this to work out? Do you want to go home? Would you like your mother to come live in the keep? I’m quite happy to speak with her on your behalf, Paserilla, but I need to know what you think.’

Ryssa blinked at Dorian, she felt better at this moment than she had since the frost had sprung from her fingers, ‘I want Maman to feel safe,’ she said softly, ‘whatever that means.’

‘All right,’ Dorian’s tone was resigned. He knew there was likely little hope in returning the girl to her mother.

Dorian left and Blackwall looked a little at a loss. He felt that he should say something encouraging but he wasn’t sure what. Vhenaria rescued him, ‘ _Ma’arlath_ , could you give us ladies about an hour to bathe and change before dinner.’

‘I’ll bring something back with me,’ Blackwall replied, relieved now that he had something to do.      

 


	5. Chapter 5

Much later Ryssa was comfortably tucked into Lady Lavellan’s great canopied four poster bed. She couldn’t believe how comfortable it was with its feather mattress and bunchy pillows. And although the bed curtains were plain cotton, there were animal furs to keep her warm instead of quilts. Everything about the Inquisitor’s quarters was amazing, though Lady Lavellan, not so secretly, hated the room. She was used to living in forests and riding in something called an aravel. A little house on wheels shaped like a boat. Ryssa couldn’t believe that the Inquisitor had never even lived in a building until she came to Haven. Lady Lavellan missed living in the woods so much that she had made a forest out of the tower. Wherever she went in Thedas, the Inquisitor returned with seeds and cuttings from all kinds of plants and grew them in pots, pans and containers of all sorts here in her quarters. The colored glass in the windows formed pictures of trees and the when the sun set in the evening it dappled the whole room with green and golden light.

The last few hours had been the happiest Ryssa had spent since before Haven. The Inquisitor dipped some of the water from the tub by the fire into a bathing pan for herself and insisted that Ryssa enjoy the deep bath full of perfectly warmed water. Then Lady Lavellan rubbed an Elfroot salve on Ryssa’s bruises, gave her a long tunic to wear for a nightdress and sat with her on the couch brushing her long dark brown hair.

Blackwall appeared with a tray of food straight from the kitchens. A whole roast chicken, a dish heaped with parsnips drowning in butter, and a loaf of bread as white as snow. Dessert was little Orlesian cakes and a warm cup of milk with honey mixed in. It was hard to imagine what could be better except that all of this was because she was a mage and her mother didn’t want her anymore.

Now she was tucked in and trying to sleep. Lady Lavellan and Blackwall were sitting on the couch by the fire, talking quietly about mundane things. The rise and fall of their voices, the scrape of Blackwall's knife on his carving was soothing. It reminded Ryssa of home, in Haven, before everything went wrong. She would listen to her parents voices from her bed in the loft and drift away, safe and warm. Ryssa was just dropping off when she was startled by Enchanter Pavus’ voice as he came up the stairs, ‘I have returned in one piece and managed not to start an incident with the Haven refugees.’

‘Hush, Dorian,’ Lady Lavellan said softly but firmly, ‘you’ll wake her.’

‘You took your time didn’t you?’ said Blackwall, ‘where have you been?’

‘Worried were you? I stopped to eat and discuss my plans with Bull, because this affects him as well,’ Enchanter Pavus had lowered his tone. Ryssa heard the clink of a bottle against a goblet. ‘How is she?’

‘She’s fine,’ Blackwall’s said, ‘clean clothes and a full belly. I tried to get Bull to part with some of that cocoa stuff he likes but he didn’t have any. Said you drank it all.’

‘I have to hide it from him if I want any,’ said a deep voice. Bull was here too.

‘Wonderful stuff,' said Dorian, 'You should try it.’

‘Thanks, I’ll pass,’ Blackwall replied, ‘Suffice to say a cup of warm milk and honey made her smile.’

‘He was shamelessly spoiling her, ‘Lady Lavellan said.

‘Burly on the outside, old softie on the inside.’ Dorian said, Ryssa could hear the amusement in his voice.

‘Jealous?’ Blackwall mocked back.

‘Hardly. Bull takes very good care of me.’

‘It’s the cocoa,’ Bull said.   

‘How did things go with Ryssa’s mother?’ Lady Lavellan interrupted over Blackwall’s stifled guffaw.  

‘She---’ the Enchanter paused as he always did when he was searching for a good way to say something bad. Lady Montilyet called it diplomacy. ‘I will give her credit. She only called me a ‘Dirty Vint’ once. She is frightened, angry and ignorant - but understandably so. The woman is positive that Ryssa will bring demons out of the sky.’

Ryssa forced herself to breath slowly. She didn’t want them to know she was awake. It was eavesdropping, and it was wrong. Except they were talking about her. Wasn’t it fair to see if they would tell her the truth in the morning? 

‘Nothing Cullen or I could say would convince her otherwise. And you know how Cullen has a way with the ladies. Apparently, his charm lies in the fact that he has no idea he is charming. Quite maddening. If I could get young men to follow me about like women follow the Commander--’

‘Bull would get in a lot more tavern brawls,’ Blackwall laughed.

‘Good thing I’m up to the challenge,’ Bull said.

‘Tavern brawls? Over me?’ Dorian asked with fake innocence.

‘Dorian,’ Lady Lavellan replied with a light laugh, ‘let’s focus on Ryssa for now.’

‘Right. We can talk about me some more later.’ Ryssa could hear the self-satisfied smile on the Enchanter’s face, ‘Well, Ryssa mother refused the offer of coming to live inside the keep. She didn’t want to be any closer to the mages here than she already is.’

‘She meant you,’ Blackwall chuckled.

‘Yes.’ Dorian answered blandly, ‘but no. She meant mages. All of us. She seems to think we ‘turned’ Ryssa into a mage. As though magic is an infection and that I am some sort of contagium. The woman was raving. The Inquisition has taken her home, her husband and now her daughter.’ Enchanter Pavus paused, ‘She said all she wanted was to return to Orlais and forget about Ferelden, Haven, and Skyhold.’

Ryssa turned her face into the pillow, smothering her tears. She didn’t want to leave Skyhold. Things weren’t easy, living in the space between the castle’s walls, but she was learning so much. And if she had to be a mage, she’d rather have Enchanter Pavus teach her magic than anyone. The conversation paused as the adults listened to see if she was awake. She lay as still as she could, focusing on the crackle of the fire, waiting for their voices.

Finally, Lady Lavellan said, ‘It’s all right, she’s asleep.’

‘At any rate, Cullen thought it would be a bad idea to let the her spread discontent so close to home. So I gave her a few sovereigns to get her and Ryssa back to Orlais.’ He paused. ‘She said she’d go alone. Leave Ryssa with us.’

‘She’s abandoning her own daughter?’ Lady Lavellan’s voice was uncomprehending.

‘I don’t think it’s like that,’ Blackwall said. His voice was soothing, ‘She is angry and frightened, but she is also grieving. Until the matter of Circle reform and Mage Rights is settled, Ryssa won’t be safe anywhere except with us.’

There was a lull then while everyone considered what Blackwall had said. Then the Enchanter spoke with a hesitancy Ryssa hadn’t heard from him before. ‘It seems that she is now...my ward.’

“How’s that?’ Blackwall was surprised.

‘I swore that I would teach her to use her gift safely and protect Ryssa with my life if necessary.’         

‘And she accepted that?’ Blackwall chuckled.

‘I was my most dazzling.’ Dorian’s customary confidence was back, ‘It was agreed that Cullen will bring Ryssa down to the lower bailey tomorrow to say goodbye.’  

Ryssa couldn’t believe her ears. A host of thoughts and feelings tangled her heart. _I’m staying here with them! Where will I sleep? Dorian will teach me magic! With a group? By myself? Will I have to practice magic with Fiona? Madame de Fer? Or worse - Solas? Will the other kids talk to me anymore? Maman is leaving. Will she be safe? Will I ever see her again?  I’m Dorian’s ward. What does that mean exactly?_

‘So now you are Ryssa’s...’ Blackwall was struggling to control his laughter, ‘I can’t even say it. You’re her Da?’

‘Her what? Her ‘Da’?’ the Enchanter tried out the word.

‘It’s a Marcher word for father,’ Lady Lavellan supplied.

‘Her father? Don’t be a simpleton,’ Dorian replied testily, ‘I’m not capable of parenting anyone. I can barely take care of myself. I certainly could never replace her father. If anyone could do that, it would be you, Big Man, Maker help her. No...I hope she might call me _Patrous_. It means something akin to an uncle who is also a mentor. Though she can take the name Pavus if she wishes.’

 _Patrous_. Ryssa didn’t know this word and she wasn’t sure what to think about it.    

‘And that makes you – what?’ Blackwall asked. Ryssa guessed he was talking to Bull.

‘Me? I’m in charge of combat training,’ Bull said, ‘And flower crowns,’ he added.

‘Dorian,’ said Lady Lavellan, ‘are you sure?’

‘Never been more positive of anything. Though I will readily admit I will need help from the two of you,’ he paused, ‘She is an extraordinary child. She doesn’t need much parenting, she only needs guidance. Someone to lean on.’

‘So, she’ll be bunking with you?’ Blackwall asked. He sounded like he was trying not to laugh out loud.

‘Of course not. That would be completely inappropriate. No. There is a perfectly good room that can be converted into quarters for her. All it needs is a good scrubbing and proper furniture.’

‘Here in the keep?’ Lady Lavellan asked.

‘Yes, but I can’t tell you where. It’s a secret.’

‘Really?’ Lady Lavellan’s smile sounded in her voice.

‘Quite. She’s been half-living in the keep for some time now. I didn’t even realize how much time she spent here, I’m so often out freezing to death in the wilderness with you, Dove.’

‘Do I need to leave you home more often?’

‘Now there’s an idea,’ said Blackwall.

‘Oaf,’ the Enchanter shot back, ‘you know you’d miss my sparkling conversation.’

‘Is that how Tevinters refer to constant complaining?’ Blackwall goaded.

Enchanter Pavus ignored him, ‘I’d rather not be left behind, but I’ll talk to her about it after--’ the Enchanter stopped.

‘What is it, _Mir’dath_?’ Lady Lavellan asked.

‘I don’t know how to tell her any of this. And I feel like...I don’t know...like I should give her a present or something to make it official.’

‘A present?’ asked Blackwall.

‘A kitten, perhaps?’ Enchanter Pavus said cautiously.

Blackwall laughed. Ryssa wondered what she would do with a kitten. How would she keep it happy in the little room behind the tapestry? _Her_ room.

‘Is that customary in a situation like this?’ asked Lady Lavellan.

‘Yes...but no. Let’s not go into what is customary in Tevinter.’

‘You mean-’ Blackwall began.

‘ _Ma’arlath_ , let’s not start up again,’ Lady Lavellan said. Ryssa felt she was missing something important. She was sure the answer was back somewhere in their earlier conversation but she didn’t have time to think about it now. There were too many other things to consider.

Lady Lavellan asked the most pressing question for her, ‘Will you take her back to Tevinter when the Inquisition is over?’

‘That is my intent, yes. But only if she agrees.’

‘Bull?’ said the Inquisitor, ‘how do you feel about all this?’

‘I’m beside the point, Boss.’

‘No,’ stated the Enchanter. ‘No, you are not.’ Dorian’s tone somehow reminded Ryssa of the way Blackwall looked at the Inquisitor.  

‘Dorian and I have talked about this. Often,’ Bull said. His tone was simple. Matter-of-fact. ‘After all this is over, he’s going back to Tevinter to try to reform things. And I have no doubt that if anyone can do it – it’s him. It goes without saying that I can’t go with him. If they will accept Ryssa, she should have the opportunity.’  

‘Just be sure she knows what that means before you leave,’ Blackwall said.

‘You know, Blackwall, I am well aware of the shortcomings of Tevinter society but I wouldn’t be going back, to fix those things, if it was such a horrible place to live. At least there she will not be a social outcast.’

‘Blackwall is right, _Mir’dath_ ,’ Lady Lavellan said softly, ‘Tevinter is very different from Ferelden. If you truly intend to give her the choice, make sure she knows what she is choosing.’

‘I know you are right, Dove, but might I worry about one difficult conversation at a time? I still don’t know how to tell her everything.’

‘Just tell her the truth. Be gentle, but don’t lie,’ Lady Lavellan said, ‘Humans don’t seem to realize that children know when they are being lied to.’

‘Do you think-’ Dorian paused, ‘That I will be...acceptable.’ he finished weakly.

Ryssa couldn’t stand it anymore. She slid off the bed, ran over to Dorian and threw her arms around his neck. ‘Of course, you’re acceptable!’ she said, sobbing into his neck, ‘You’re…’ her breath hitched, ‘wonderful.’

‘Paserilla?’ Dorian’s arms wrapped around her protectively, ‘were you listening the whole time?’

 ‘I’m sorry,’ she replied through her tears.

‘Well,’ Dorian squeezed her tight, ‘that does save us a rather awkward conversation in the morning. And all of this is agreeable to you, my dear?’ He pulled back and looked at her face, gently drying her tears with the pads of his thumbs.

Ryssa nodded her head, ‘I’m a little scared. But, yes, I think so.’

‘It’s all right if you are a little scared, my dear,’ Dorian kissed Ryssa’s forehead and pulled her up on the couch between him and Bull, ‘Everyone here is a little scared sometimes.’

Blackwall chuckled, ‘You’re going to be a marvelous parent,’ he said, with no trace of sarcasm.

‘Not me, Big Man. _You_ are going to act as parents.’ Dorian announced gleefully, pointing at Vhenaria and Blackwall, ‘In charge of bedtimes and mealtimes and discipline. I get to spoil her, provide cocoa, and teach her how to turn people into newts.’ Dorian handed her the last tea cake.

‘You can really turn someone into a newt?’ Ryssa whispered.

‘Of course not, but it is a very clever threat, don’t you think?’ Dorian’s whisper was conspiratorial. Ryssa beamed at him and took a bite of her tea cake.

‘So basically, the same thing we do for you and Bull,’ Lady Lavellan smiled at Ryssa and winked.

‘Now that you mention it, yes. It does seem to work for us doesn’t it,' Dorian said happily.

Bull patted Ryssa on the head, ‘Welcome to the family, kiddo.’    

 

                    

         

 


End file.
